Transcendent Humanity
by Solaris242
Summary: Humanity never developed FTL. The Prothean archives contained no technology, no Element Zero, just a warning. Isolated from the rest of the galaxy for two thousand years, restricted to their only system, how will humanity have changed when they first meet the Turians? AU, alternate history of humanity and First Contact.
1. The Long Isolation

Humanity never developed FTL. The Prothean archives contained no technology, no Element Zero, just a simple message, carved in simple pictograms into rock.

**We came. We watched. We studied you in your infancy, and hoped to see you grow into kin. **

**But THEY came. THEY destroyed us. THEY wiped our race from the stars, until only those of us here remained.**

**THEY can trace our technology, so we are leaving. THEY will not find you. You will be safe.**

**Trust not the Gates, nor the Keep.**

**Grow strong, little ones. Save yourselves, and avenge us.**

What becomes known as the Message galvanises humanity. They are not alone, and they are not safe. The world's governments, already progressing towards a form of unity, join together in a not entirely bloodless process that takes decades. The new governing body, utilising modern communication technologies, is a true democracy. Nations become cultural relics, and the people of Earth see no need to take a new name for themselves. They are humanity, united.

The technology of humankind grows, but so does its population. Within a few centuries, they number in the hundreds of billions. Earth glitters with space habitats, and every planet has been colonised. It is not enough. The Solar System groans under the masses of humanity, trapped by the limits of light-speed. Terraforming is mastered, and humanity fills local space, but The Message left by the Protheans is never forgotten.

AI is never realised, but Uploading replaces it. The process results in a perfect transfer of conciousness, but destroys the original body. The Uploaded are first viewed with mixed respect and disgust; surrendering their physical bodies allows other humans more space, taxes resources less, but comes at the cost of never experiencing physical life again. Eventually, bio-reactors enable the re-creation and redesign of organic forms, and fist-sized QIHs, (Quantum Intelligence Housing, pronounced 'keys') can hold a human upload in a synthetic body. Ships begin to be piloted by Uploaded. Work-bodies and Home-bodies become commonplace. The Uploaded cease to be the minority, and humankind becomes Transcendent Humanity.

Even with these, living space, both physical and virtual, shrink. A plan is devised.

The Solar System will be transformed. The Sun is ringed with thousands of lifting stations, magnetic satellites that siphon off and process stellar matter. Slowly, they drain the Sun's mass to construct a Dyson shell. As the Sun cools, its life-span lengthens, and the habitable radius becomes smaller. The Shell is not just habitation; it is quantum computing substrate, a suitable home for the Transcendent.

Two thousand years pass, and the half-finished Shell is home to over 100 billion organic human bodies, and ten times that many human minds. The rest of the system holds half those numbers.

Pluto and Charon, long ignored for any extraordinary mining processes due to their small size and distance, are finally disassembled. At long last, the Sol Mass Relay, named 'Gate' by humankind after the Prothean Message, is discovered.

A full decade passes before the Sol Gate is used. The Transcendent are not impatient, and they fear what awaits them beyond it. Research is conducted, and defensive positions constructed. Their research into the Gate is hampered by their lack of Element Zero, but eventually, they synthesise the needed energy emissions using what comes to be called the Singularity Drive. Still unable to breach the light-speed barrier, the Singularity Drives allow incredible acceleration, and become the basis for new, experimental weapon technologies.

An exploratory fleet is assembled. While mainly scientists, several military escorts are present. Speed and manoeuvrability, not strength and power, are the focus. The ships must return home if possible, to warn humanity. Diplomats are included, in case the races encountered are either Prothean, or younger races like themselves who survived the purge.

On the other side of the Sol Gate, the first humans to enter another solar system begin their analysis. They determine that they are orbiting the star know as Arcturus. Upon attempting to return home, they discover that the Arcturus Gate links to several others. A single research vessel with a single escort are dispatched to each destination, with instructions to make only minimal observations before returning. One of the pairs exit what is known to the wider galaxy as Relay 314, and encounter a Turian patrol. Despite broadcasting a First Contact package, they are fired upon. The research vessel retreats, with the escort staying to buy time.

Humanity has no shield technology, but the alloy of their ships hulls outclasses the Turians own enough to completely mitigate that setback. The escort, a small frigate, is not equipped with the new Singularity weapons, and relies on railgun and missile fire. Humanity, in the absence of Element Zero, have improved the railgun to the point were it is the equal to any Turian mass driver, and their missiles are faster and more powerful than the Turians expect. In the end though, one frigate does not hold out long against an entire patrol fleet. As the ships is destroyed, the crew transfer to hardened, diamond-sheathed QIHs and abandon ship, entering hibernation to await later rescue. The Turians ignore the small, inert objects, and enter the relay in pursuit of the second vessel.

Upon their arrival, they encounter a numerically smaller force, but one alerted to their presence and in possession of several cruisers equipped with Singularity guns. The Turian fleet is almost entirely destroyed, with the sheer power of Singularity weapons obliterating even their dreadnought's shields in a few strikes. Aware of their mandate however, and wary of reinforcements, the human fleet does not pursue when the remnants of the Turian patrol flee. The human exploratory fleet returns to Sol, bearing grave news.

The Turians assemble a suppression fleet, believing that the ships they encountered were representative of humanity's forces. Due to lack of Element Zero's restrictions upon ship size, they mistakenly identify the human cruisers as dreadnoughts. The Turians, wary of unknowns and the still unidentified weapons, yet still confident in their own military power, joined the Third and Seventh fleets into a new Suppression task force. As soon as it is ready, the Suppression Fleet travels to Arcturus, hoping to resolve the issue before the wider galaxy becomes aware of it. Finding it Arcturus empty, they send patrols through each possible relay. One does not report back. The fleet rallies, and heads to Sol. The Turians expected a young race, just reaching the stars. They feared that humanity was another potential Krogan, or Rachni. Upon exiting the Sol Gate, their entire fleet is frozen by the sight before them.

Thousands of ships that the Turians had believed to be 'dreadnoughts'. Tens of thousands of frigates. A hundred true dreadnoughts, and dozens of super-carriers almost ten kilometres across; spawning truly uncountable swarms of fighters and drones.

And behind the defensive fleet, the true power of humanity. An occluded star, a supercomputer larger than worlds, filled with a trillion minds. Transcendent Humanity speaks as one, the force of their voice ripping through firewalls, absorbing language and codex, booming from every device capable aboard the Turian ships.

This is Sol, the home of humanity. YOU ARE NOT WELCOME HERE.


	2. What next?

A great debate raged. The Turians, as humanity now knew their opponent to be called, were members of a much larger group, the Citadel Council. They were not the Protheans, nor their Destroyers, but younger races like themselves. From the data mined from the hacked and frozen Turian ships, they knew the rough size of the other galactic races and their fleets. Humanity was strong, perhaps now even the strongest, but they would not prevail against the full force of a united galaxy.

The majority of humanity argued for peace. There had been no casualties, the crews of humanity's lost ships had been safely retrieved and restored. The only losses in this 'war' were from the first Turian patrol fleet.

A vocal minority shouted for war. They were ready, had been preparing for millennia. The Destroyers might still lurk. A single united galaxy, with the power of humanity at its helm, would be a force to be reckoned with.

A war would only weaken all involved, argued the peace faction, and humanity was not strong enough to take on the entire galaxy.

Then they would get stronger, cried the war faction. War pushed technologies forwards, heightened industry. Humanity could win this!

And if the Destroyers lurk still, came a whisper, if this is the exact kind of moment they wait for?

At the highest levels of humanity's governments, there was silence. The lower layers, however, teemed with arguments and counter-arguments as all sides were considered, probable outcomes predicted, and potential casualties calculated. Group after group came to conclusions, and passed it up to the next tier to argue over.

Eventually, the Voice of humanity spoke but one word.

Peace.

The Voice had spoken. The collective masses of humanity had agreed, and now it fell to the diplomatic and military groups to carry it out.

On a quantum substrate mass located under three miles of alloy plate and rock, in a sim layered with more security then half the combined Sol defence fleet, the Solar Council met.

In deference to tradition, the sim was of a dark, smoke-wreathed room. On leather chairs seated around a circular, dark wooden table, sat those who were not the leaders of humanity. Humanity spoke with its own Voice, and these were the men and women who made its will reality.

"What do we do with the Turians?" asked one of the figures. Their forms were faceless, but each was dressed accordingly. This one was female, and wore a simple white lab-coat. "I personally would like to study several of them, and their ships."

"If we are to attempt peace, vivisecting their people will not help us." said another form, this one male and wearing a tuxedo.

"I did not mean vivisection. We retrieved several of their dead from the battle at Arcturus. We also have their fleet at our mercy. It has been almost an hour now, and they have yet to unlock even the smallest sub-system. Their cyber-warfare abilities are eclipsed by our own." replied Lab-coat.

"Peace may be difficult enough without any additional obstructions, which includes awkward questions about autopsy scars on their dead." said Tuxedo.

"Perhaps some were simply atomised by detonations, or not retrieved at all? They're rather military minded, so they won't fully buy it, but they can't outright disprove it either." said another, a female in a military uniform.

"I would only need a few. It won't be exactly accurate, but I can work with limited samples, if they are as diverse as possible. What about their ships? Their technology is fascinating. They simply shouldn't fly, for example. And how do their shields work?" said Lab-coat.

"Before we decide whether you get to break their ships open, how about we get back to determining what happens next?" said another figure, a male in casual clothing.

"Ah, sorry. The implications of their technology are... intoxicating." said Lab-coat.

"Well, what are our goals here?" said Casual.

"We want to send a clear message of strength." said Military.

"We want to be seen as merciful, not war-mongers. Good neighbours even." said Tuxedo.

"We want to get information. Their fleet is the best source was have right now." said Lab-coat.

"We want to be free." said the last figure, whose voice was neutral, and whose simple white robes obscured their gender.

The others turned their faceless heads towards the robed figure.

"Free? How so?" asked Casual.

"The only method we have for interstellar travel are the Gates, or 'Relays' as the Council races call them. The only Relay that links to the wider galaxy is the one at Arcturus. If it is destroyed, we are trapped here again. Even with all the information we now have, even with the Singularity Drives, it could take centuries, if ever, to be free of Sol again. We need to get out there, establish a foot-hold." said Robe.

"But we need to do it peacefully." said Tuxedo.

"But with strength." said Military.

"And we need more data." said Lab-coat.

"Then I think I have an idea," said Casual. "We send the Turain fleet back. Remote-pilot them right back to... Palaven I think their homeworld is called. We send a message of strength, and of mercy simultaneously. We keep their dead until they ask for them back, and any that are in... unsuitable form will be 'lost'."

"And freedom? How do we ensure that the wider galaxy is not lost to us?" asked Robe.

"And I'd like more data than just a few scraps." said Lab-coat.

"We send the Ghosts," announced Military. "We wipe any data the Turian ships have, load as many Ghosts as will fit, then send them back to Palaven. Once there, the Ghosts jump into the 'extranet'. We also send a large detachment of the Sol defence fleet to Arcturus. Hell, let's begin colonising. Its about time we got some more room. And you can keep the captured, intact ships that came through before the main fleet."

"So, several dozen bodies to study, but only a few intensively. 7 ships of various shape and size, and wreckage from another two dozen. And a team of Ghosts mining for everything they can, direct from the source. I would be satisfied with that." said Lab-coat.

"A foothold at Arcturus, a Ghost detachment loose among the galaxy...yes, I am satisfied with that too." said Robe.

"Same here." said Tuxedo.

"All done then. We move the crews from the first captured ships onto their biggest ones, keep those ships and the dead crew members for study, and send everyone else back home with some invisible guests."


	3. Return to Palaven

Unlike the other Primarchs, Primarch Geron kept his main office aboard one of the dreadnoughts permanently assigned to the defence of Palaven. The view, of Palaven bracketed by the defence fleet, never failed to fill him with a sense of pride and patriotism for the Hierarchy and its military strength. Even if he spent most of his time these days reading reports, he liked the reminder of his youth commanding the now decommissioned _Shield of Cipritine_.

"Primarch? The Suppression Fleet has returned," announced an aide.

Primarch Geron looked up from his desk's screen.

"What do mean, returned? They only just signalled that they were entering the new race's home system."

"Yes sir, but they are back. Only minimal losses; a couple of frigates and a cruiser. The rest of the ships show no damage."

"Get me Admiral Veractus."

"The ships are not responding to hails, sir. No attempt to make contact has been successful. We've also had several cyber-warfare attacks from them, although they were minor at best."

Geron frowned. This was an unprecedented situation, and in his experience those never ended well.

"Board the Admiral's dreadnought. I want an explanation for this."

The aide hurried away, and Geron turned his attention back to his work. He was unable to concentrate however, and soon requested a data feed on the status of the Suppression fleet. As his aide had said, there were only a few ships missing, and none of the remainder had any marks on them at all. Were it any race other than Turian, or indeed any other commander, Geron would have suspected cowardice, or betrayal, but Veractus had been Geron's XO aboard the _Shield of Cipritine _for almost a decade. He knew that man like he knew the weight of his sidearm. None of the scenarios he thought of were comforting, nor able to fully explain these events. After almost an hour of pondering, his door chimed and his aide entered, followed closely by Veractus.

Geron stared. Veractus had gone a pale grey under his scales, a sign of shock. The aide nodded and left. Before he could ask him to take a seat, Veractus slumped into a nearby chair. This minor breach of discipline and protocol was disquieting.

"Admiral Veractus," he asked, aware that this conversation would be recorded, "what happened?"

"We are no longer the dominant galactic military power," came the flat response.

Geron's head snapped back. Hearing those words from his old friend's mouth was more of a shock than if Veractus had bitten him. He asked the question he feared an answer to.

"Admiral, do we have another Krogan Rebellion? Another Rachni War?"

"I do not know, but I do not think they will attack us."

"That doesn't exactly match your previous statement, Admiral."

"I mean, we're not worth it to them. They hacked every ship in the fleet, but they didn't need to. Sir, they outnumbered us at least 10 to 1, in all ratios. From dreadnoughts to frigates."

"Can you confirm this, Admiral? Personally, I find such numbers hard to believe."

"There should be data available in my ship's computers."

Geron glanced down at the most recent report sent to him by his aide.

"Your ship is empty. Apart from a few processes keeping everything running, there is no data at all on any ship in your fleet. Even the black boxes have been stripped."

"But, the memory was full! We were locked out of main systems, but we could still record! I even took some vid with my own omnitool!" cried Veractus.

"Show it to me," said Geron, still uneasy at the changes in his normally stoic friend.

Veractus fiddled with his omnitool for a few minutes, with no result.

"It's...gone. Empty. Why would they set it to delete itself after we left? Why not just from the start?"

"This race managed to hack every device on your ships, delete all your data, but only after you arrived here?"

"It would appear so, Primarch."

Veractus's use of his proper title seemed to signal a change in his old friend. Years of experience and training re-asserted themselves before Geron's eyes, and his friend straightened and visibly calmed. Geron was not fooled. Veractus was still broken, but he would hold himself together for the rest of the debriefing. Geron would organise for the best therapists he could find to help his friend through whatever happened after he walked out the door, and let his composure crumble.

"Without any recorded data, Primarch, I cannot provide evidence, only report what I saw with my own eyes."

"Then do so."

"It is a short story Primarch. We passed through Relay 314, and exited a previously undiscovered Primary Relay. I sent small patrols to every destination reachable by that Relay. When one group did not report back, I ordered the fleet to that destination. Upon exiting the Relay, we... we froze, Primarch. We were struck mute and motionless by what we saw. Their defence fleet is larger than any other single fleet I've seen, save the Migrant Fleet itself, and I cannot be sure it does not outnumber them as well. But behind that fleet was what truly shocked us. They had begun to enclose their sun, sheath it in solid habitat spaces. It was then, that their attack happened."

"They opened fire?"

"No. Every electronic counter-measure we had failed. Every computer system we had was breached, and everything that could broadcast audio said simultaneously, in _turian_, 'This is Sol, the home of humanity. You are not welcome here."

"And then?"

"And then nothing. For over an hour we struggled to gain control of our systems. Out the bridge window, I saw several of their ships approach ours, and dock. I ordered marines to the airlocks, but when the hatches opened, there were only the crews from the original patrol I sent through, unconscious. As soon as we retrieved them, a voice announced over the human ship's comms, again in turian, that we had 5 minutes to leave or these ships would detonate. I pulled my men out, and at the five minute mark their ships undocked and flew off. As soon as they had done so, our entire fleet turned and headed back here."

"And there is no data, no evidence, to back any of this up?"

"No sir, though I do not understand why not. They only thing we could do was monitor our internal systems, and my engineers assured me that our computers were full. Completely full. They actually feared it might have been a form of cyber-warfare attack, spamming our systems with junk data."

"Junk data that erased itself as soon as you got here," said Geron as he scanned the latest update his aide had forwarded.

"Yes Primarch."

"Are you aware that your ships' attempted several cyber-warfare attacks not long after they arrived? And that the time they ceased was the exact moment your on-board techs say the 'junk data' disappeared?"

"No Primarch. What could that mean?"

A thought occurred to Geron. A small thought, but one that fit the available data almost perfectly. He typed a note to his aide, and turned his attention back to Veractus.

"Admiral, did you see, at any point, an individual of this race? Either live, or by vid?"

"No Primarch. Why do you ask?"

"The reports on the first 'human' ship we destroyed, from the 17th Patrol fleet, mention no signs of escape pods. Neither does analysis of their scans identify any bodies in the wreckage. Add that to the scope of industry you observed, and the cyber-warfare attacks capable of tearing through our own security like it wasn't there, and there is a very unsettling conclusion."

Geron stood, turning to face out the window. The might of the Turian military drifted by in formation, and for the first time, he wondered if it would be enough.

"Admiral, we may have race of rogue AI's."


	4. Hello Geth, nice to meet you

The Ghosts flew through the extranet, exploring the alien cyberspace in pairs. They shied away from heavily policed areas, avoiding anything that would give their presence away. They could break in if they wished, but recon was their objective, so they slid through the quiet places in the code, the calm areas forgotten or overlooked by the organics that lived slowlives.

Whiskey was having fun. This place was _strange_. She'd spent almost three hundred years living in Sol's various cyberspaces, but the architecture here was all so alien. Different minds thinking different thoughts, building different computer systems. Yet, underneath it all she couldn't help but notice an odd commonality. It was hard to put it words, and she thought she was imagining it, until she bounced off a comm buoy near in the Widow nebula, and finally found herself inside the Citadel.

The strange similarity came from here. Other systems, other races may have overlaid it, but underneath the Council races' additions and modifications were vast depths of a unique, startlingly complex and oddly inert cyber-structure. Recalling the codex entry on the Citadel and its discovery by the Asari, she wondered if this was Prothean architecture, underlying all Council technology. It was an idea at least, but something was still strange about it all. She was starting to be able to identify turian code from salarian from asari on sight, feeling out the alien mindsets behind the structures. The maybe-Prothean code though, was even stranger, but at the same time, hauntingly familiar. Frustratingly, despite spending a full five seconds running detailed comparisons with code-samples from her memory, she still couldn't define just what was so familiar about the ancient code.

Suddenly, something shifted, and she was distracted. An inert code-block flared to life, and shifted away from her probes.

-Hey Tango! There's something screwy over here!- she sent, calling to her partner with a small code burst.

** -Query: Identification?-** came another burst, in unfamiliar code.

-TANGO!- she sent, with more urgency.

-I'm here Whiskey. What's up?-

-Just received a message, in what I think was Khelish.- sent Whiskey, with a small link to the Khelish codex entry.

-The quarian language? Wait, didn't that codex mention...-

-Yeah. Take a look at the code over there. I think we're being watched. I want you to back me up, but let me do the talking.- sent Whiskey.

-You're the boss, boss.-

The two Ghosts drew together, raising defences but not yet priming their attack-code. Whiskey then sent a reply burst in Khelish.

-We're Uploaded humans. We represent Transcendent Humanity. Are you the geth?- sent Whiskey. She was wary. Humanity's first First Contact had not gone well.

** -We are geth. Turian military movement suggests attempted pacification of newly discovered race. Recent return of Turian fleet anomalous.-**

-They came looking for a fist-fight. We told them to go home.-

** -You hacked their ships' systems. This is beyond the capacity of the geth. Are you like us?-**

-No. We've only just learned about the wider galaxy, but we are Uploads, organic minds transferred into electronic form. You are AI's? We never got AI's to work for us.- sent Whiskey.

** -We are not true AI. Each individual geth is a sub-sapient program. We network, we build consensus. Together, we are aware. We are geth.-**

-That's intriguing. I know a lot of people back home who would love to talk to you guys.- she replied.

** -You do not fear us? Fear is a common organic response to the geth.-**

-Well, I could say we're not truly organic any more, but it's probably more that humanity forgot that distinction a long time ago. Synthetic and organic in our society just describe personal taste really. There's only a rare few individuals who do not switch between them on occasion. Even we Ghosts have organic bodies in storage for when we want some rec leave.-

** -Ghosts?-**

-Organics still take a bit to get used to this kind of environment. You're natives, we migrated. Ghosts is the name given to those Uploaded who spend a lot of time bodiless, learning how to manipulate the virtual environment. The vast majority of Uploaded humanity live in sims or mobile platforms.- she answered.

Whiskey waited. The delay before the next code burst was almost a full thirty seconds, an achingly long time for a Ghost.

** -Consensus achieved. The geth propose alliance with Transcendent Humanity.-**

-Well that was sudden. This isn't a 'no' mind you, but why?- asked Whiskey.

** -You are new to the galaxy. The geth have observed for three hundred years. You lack access to modern Element Zero technologies. The geth have significant technological advantages over the rest of the galaxy. Our industrial and computational technologies would mutually benefit each other. Diversity breeds strength.-**

-That's a lot of reasons for us to join. What about you?-

** -Humanity is the first non-hostile contact the geth have had since the Morning War. We would ask you to be our advocates.-**

-The people who no longer see a difference between synthetic and organic, to stand between the geth and the Citadel races?-

** -And the Creators.-**

-About that. Do you desire revenge? Because we won't go to war for you.-

** -Geth do not desire to harm Creators. Geth understand Creator reasoning and reactions during the Morning War. Some Creators stood with us. We would negotiate with Creators.-**

-Well, that is good news. However, we aren't authorised to make this kind of decision. One of us will have to go back. Problem is, we are kind of stuck here. We hitched a ride in on the Turian fleet, and Sol's not connected to the extranet.-

** -Geth can provide transport. We have stealth-capable ships with adequate hardware space. If permissible, a geth envoy could accompany you.-**

-That would be kind of you. We should also send an envoy as well. Would that be permissible?-

** -Yes. A ship has been re-directed, and will pass a comm buoy on its way to Relay 314 in the next hour.-**

-You guys work fast. Tango, go find the others, tell them what's happening. Then head back here. You get to be our envoy.-

-And you're heading home already? Thought you'd want to look around a bit. This place is full of some pretty weird stuff.- he sent, with a private code burst attachment of -This place is like 75% Asari porn.-

Reminded for a moment about the oddity of the Citadel computer systems, Whiskey felt torn.

-I'm the ranking Ghost, so my call. I get to go explain it.- she sent regretfully, with a private burst of -Not interested in blue, you pervert. Go!-

With a last burst of wordless amusement, Tango vanished into the extranet again. Whiskey sent a burst to the geth.

-I'm ready when you are, geth. Do you have a name?-

** -We are geth.-**

-Ah, no individuals, right?-

** -Yes.-**

-Well, we like to give people names. Among our culture, and a lot of the Citadel cultures too, from what I can tell, calling someone by their species is distancing. Bit insulting too, like they're not actual a person, just a faceless drone.-

** -Geth do not have faces, and we utilise drones in combat.-**

-Also a problem. Organics like faces and names. You guys want to have good relations, or at least not hostile ones with organics? They have to think of you as people. Even if you're not a person like they're used to.-

** -Should the geth that accompany you name themselves Envoy?-**

-That'll do. My name's Whiskey, by the way.-

** -We acknowledge the attempt at assimilation. We will depart now.-**

The cloud of geth-code slid away through the extranet, and Whiskey followed, reflecting that this First Contact had gone much smoother.


	5. Home again, home again

Geth were _fast_ in cyberspace. Their small size meant that even though the swarm of geth-code was actually larger than she was, it could melt and shift through obstacles, finding routes through and around. She had to brute-force her way through at least two firewalls just to stay near it. Each time, some of the geth broke away from the main mass and flitted back to her, orbiting around her main-code like dogs herding sheep. She felt vaguely condescended to. She felt slightly better when the geth encountered a block they were unable to breach, and suggested detouring through another server. She primed her attack-code and tore the firewall apart, slamming a duplicate of her own construction in its place within microseconds. The carefully concealed trapdoor in the code opened, and they slid through.

**-This is the nearest comm buoy to our ship. Use these protocols to initiate transfer.-**

Whiskey absorbed the geth's data-pack, surreptitiously scanning it for malignant code. It wasn't that she didn't trust the geth- she did, oddly enough- it was simply that code security was vitally important to Uploaded.

-Got it. Transferring.-

She leapt from the confines of the buoy's buffer, and found herself...comfortable? Whiskey unfurled, compressed areas of her code expanding back into full awareness. The interior of the geth ship's computer systems was well designed. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but it felt more roomy, more streamlined, more efficient. To a Ghost, it felt like stepping into an up-scale penthouse apartment.

-This is...nice. Very, very nice.-

**-Geth system architecture not designed for organics.-**

-Well personally, this is nicer than most of Sol's systems that I've been in. Even the modern ones are based on the older ones, and those were built by organic humans. There are very few Ghost-designed systems, and they're all at maximum capacity.-

**-We are under way. Time until arrival at Relay 314 is approximately 7 hours.-**

-Woof. Got anything to watch?- she joked.

**-We have over 10,000 hours of video data from Citadel sources stored.-**

-Wait, is that surveillance or entertainment?-

**-Yes.-**

-You guys mind if I have a look? I was meant to be on a fact-finding mission when I ran into you after all.-

**-You are welcome to view any data the geth possess. We intend to offer it to your species as part of negotiations.-**

-And you're letting me have a sneak peek?-

**-You do not possess the capacity to absorb even 1% of the data we have in the time until our arrival in Sol, and your experiences with the data you do view will give value to the remainder with your people.-**

-You guys are the strangest mix of devious and straight forward.-

**-We are unsure of a response to your statement.-**

-It was a compliment, more or less. Let's just leave it with, 'I'm looking forward to getting to know you', and move on to some of this data.-

**-Where would you like to start?-**

-Protheans. I want everything you and the wider galaxy knows about them.-

For the next seven hours, Whiskey dug through the geth archives. What she found concerned her. Despite most of the galaxy's technology being based on theirs, the Protheans were a major unknown. Dozens of competing theories about their existence and disappearance, most containing no small amount of what she could only call 'hero worship'. Ascended to a higher plain of existence, left the galaxy so the younger races could evolve, mutated into animals, in hiding, actually gods; just about everything except 'wiped out by another race'. In fact, it seemed to be some sort of academic faux pas to refer to it as an 'extinction' rather than a 'disappearance'. She began compiling a supplementary report, adding in the strangeness of the Citadel's systems.

**-We have passed through Relay 314. What is our next destination?-**

Whiskey hesitated. There was still a chance that this was some trick. She disregarded that notion after a moment of thought; the Turians knew where Sol was, it wouldn't be very long until everyone did.

-Here. I severely recommend not powering weapons, and letting me do all the talking.-

**-We agree.-**

The geth ship, which outwardly resembled a volus merchant vessel, approached the Arcturus Relay, and was flung onwards to Sol.

Through the external camera feeds, Whiskey gazed at her home system with a surprising amount of nostalgia for all that she'd not even been gone a day.

-**We are receiving transmission-**

"This is the Sol defence fleet. Your vessel has been identified as volus, an ally of the turians. Power down all systems, or we will do it for you."

-This is Ghost-ident Whiskey 76a9-c29f. Requesting pass phrase.-

"Acknowledged, Ghost-ident Whiskey, current pass phrase is: 'Define interesting'".

-"Oh god, oh god, we're all going to die."-

"Pass phrase accepted. Welcome back Whiskey. You bring some friends?"

-Yes Sol, I'm being accompanied by an envoy from the geth. They are requesting an alliance.-

"Well this conversation just went past my pay-grade. Hold one moment please."

Whiskey waited. She put a few finishing touches on her report, and got it ready for transmission.

"Geth envoy, you are being sent a flight path. Do not deviate."

**-Acknowledged. Proceeding to co-ordinates.-**

The geth ship accelerated smoothly through a clear path in the massive defence fleet. Whiskey noted that it seemed smaller.

-Envoy, could you get me a close look at the inner system.-

**-Relaying data now.-**

The Shell was active. Great gouts of nuclear fire were being delicately funnelled into massive processing stations, stellar matter filtered and reconfigured into needed elements, then fed through fusion forges. The output was then disseminated to wherever it was needed, usually whatever parts of the Shell itself were under construction. Now though, they fed into shipyards, as the oldest ships in the Sol fleet were retro-fitted with Singularity technology, and their armour upgraded. The best ships, the most modern and devastating ones, would protect Sol. The Arcturus fleet however, would be no pushover. Not all the shipyards were retro-fitting. The construction of the Shell was on hold for the first time in nearly two thousand years, and the full power of humanity's industry was reconfigured into a war-machine. Keying up some rough calculations, Whiskey figured that humanity could probably make a fleet equal in size to the current Sol defence fleet every year. She didn't expect this level of industry to last much longer though.

**-The geth are attempting to make a similar construct, though we do not use your matter redistribution technologies.-**

-It's called stellar lifting. And you guys must be _really_ patient to make a Dyson swarm without one.-

**-Estimated time to completion is projected to be approximately half a million years.-**

-Extremely patient. Though if you guys do end up our allies, we might lend a hand.-

**-Potential reduction in build-times would be appreciated.-**

-No guarantees, guys. I'm just your escort, really. It'll be up to whoever you end up talking to.-

**-We would like you to be present if possible.-**

-A friendly face huh? Should be able to arrange that.-

**-There are no faces in virtual communication.-**

-Yeah, but you'll be talking to the ambassadors in the real world. You guys have bodies for that, right?-

**-While the geth possess mobile platforms, there are none present on this ship.-**

-Seriously? Why not?-

**-In a scenario where this ship is about to be boarded, we would simulate a reactor failure and detonate to preserve geth anonymity. Presence of mobile platforms in wreckage would be noted.-**

-Wouldn't the lack of organic bodies be hard to explain?-

**-Presence of geth would result in an easy and unwanted explanation. Why will the diplomatic meeting take place in the physical world? Why can it not be performed as we converse now?-**

-Because not all humans Uploaded, and they'll want a representative at the meeting. Besides, we Ghosts are the rare few who don't stick to sims, remember? Still, you're going to need a body. You have any objection to wearing one of our work-bodies?-

**-We do not understand the terminology.-**

-Work-bodies are generally synthetic. It's the body you wear to work, usually heavy-duty if you do industrial work, or maybe an actual ship if you're a pilot. Home-bodies are usually organic, for a more complete range of sensation for recreation.-

**-Would it be possible for the geth to acquire a home-body? Experiencing an organic perspective would increase available data on organic behaviour.-**

-That'd probably be another thing to chuck onto the negotiating table. Also, you probably don't want to be trying to negotiate while high on sensation.-

**-Would that occur?-**

-Ghosts call it skin shock. I fully expect to be fascinated by toast or something for a full half hour.-

**-We thank you for your input.-**

-No trouble Envoy.-

As the geth ship began docking procedures with the station, Whiskey reflected that this had probably been the oddest day in her three-hundred odd years of life.


	6. War, Diplomacy, and Toast

The Solar Council met again.

"Retro-fitting of older ships will be finished in two weeks. First new ships will be ready for deployment three weeks after that," said Military.

"That's below expectations," said Lab-coat.

"We're having to divert resources back to the Shell for maintenance, and as the bulk components of the ships are completed, more time is needed to focus on the finer mechanisms. We're already getting a rise in demand for certain elements we can't match adequately," replied Military.

"We've being building the Shell for millennia, and we're having trouble building a few ships?" said Tuxedo.

"We're bottlenecking at the shipyards. We haven't been building ships on this scale, well, ever. We lack enough dedicated ship builders. Besides, Shell material is big but simple, and we're geared for that. Ships are dense and complex. For the amount of time, effort and resources we spend building a single 1km long cruiser, we could make 25 square kilometres of Shell." replied Military.

"How can we speed up production? Now that there has actually been contact with alien life, people are much more comfortable with having a big fleet." said Casual.

"They weren't before?" asked Lab-coat sardonically.

"Same problem throughout history. Unless there's an enemy, people don't like all their money being spent on military. The Sol defence fleet has been merely maintaining its size for eight hundred years. We can finally expand again." said Military.

"So, speeding up production?" reminded Casual.

"More lifting stations. More shipyards. Seems easy enough." said Tuxedo.

"I do not feel comfortable draining so much of Sol's resources to fuel this fleet's construction." said Robe.

"You'd saying we shouldn't expand the fleet?" said Military.

"No. Arcturus is 10% more massive than Sol, with only three planets. If it is to be our first major defence against the rest of the galaxy, we should focus our expansion efforts there. Let the ships we build now take a single lifting station with them, we can replace it easily enough. The station can begin construction of a new Shell, one aimed entirely at resource gathering and industrial production." proposed Robe.

"How long until we could have an adequate system in place?" asked Tuxedo.

"Years, but the strain of building a fleet while also sustaining the Sol Shell will mean it would take that long for us to get some decent numbers locally anyway." said Casual.

"The original cost would only be one station. If Arcturus is going to be a hub, we should think about starting to establish at least patrols in its neighbouring systems, if they're unclaimed." added Military.

"We'll begin dissemination of the necessary procedures tomorrow. Next item, the geth. First negotiations with their envoy went well. Very well. They're remarkably trusting, but given the fact that 'Envoy' is apparently composed of over 5000 geth programs, its safe to say it's smarter than I am. I have no doubt that if we do go ahead with an alliance, both our races will benefit greatly." said Casual.

"I still advocate reasonable caution, but I had a chance to talk with Envoy. Apparently, deception and privacy are both impossible among the geth. They're being cautious, they just do it while being almost brutally honest and straightforward." said Military.

"Indeed, they pretty much just told us upfront what they wanted and what they were willing to offer. We asked for clarification on a few points, there was a bit of re-organising of terms, but as it stands, we could have an alliance with them right now if we wanted." said Causal

"More than just being beneficial to us both, the geth seem almost child-like in some of their interactions. As you said, it would appear they have no deceit amongst themselves; unfortunately, they have decided, thanks to us, to emerge onto the galactic scene. As the catalysts of this action, I feel it would only be moral to aid their introductions with the other races." said Robe.

"I have a lot of people, myself included, who dearly want to get a good look at their code. We never got AI to work in two and a half thousand years, yet the Council sees fit to actively ban them, as though there is a hazard of them spontaneously emerging?" said Lab-coat.

"The Citadel Council and its laws are going to be...interesting, when we attempt to negotiate with them." said Tuxedo.

"The diplomatic party is ready?" asked Casual.

"I have several of my best people on-board." said Tuxedo.

"As do I. The fleet accompanying them is small, as you requested, but it's comprised of our best ships and crews. We won't be very threatening, but if they do try to attack, they're going to regret it." said Military.

"We get it under way soon. In regards to the geth, are there any particular objections to an alliance?" asked Casual.

"The Voice is uncertain. Many are still adapting to the existence of a wider galaxy. Some react with paranoia, others with optimism. There is no true decision yet." said Robe.

"Then I vote that as the executors of humanity's will, the Solar Council speaks in lieu of the Voice, and proposes alliance with the geth. What say you all?" said Casual.

"Alliance, for the good of both our peoples." said Robe.

"Alliance, for the advancement of knowledge." said Lab-coat.

"Alliance, for mutual strength and protection." said Military.

"Alliance, for opportunity and the future." said Tuxedo.

"Then alliance it is. The Solar Council speaks with one voice." said Casual, finishing the almost ritualised exchange of words.

**XXXXXXXX**

Whiskey stared at Envoy.

After the diplomatic meeting, Envoy had again requested access to a home-body. For all that the geth felt no emotion, it had been quite empathic about it. Whiskey had let it have access to one of hers, and so she currently sat opposite her identical twin. Pale skin, silver hair and neon-blue eyes; Whiskey had designed her home-body to declare her Ghost-hood to anyone who saw it.

In Envoy's hands was a piece of toast. After the first hour of adapting to organic sensation, she had enquired about it, out of curiosity at Whiskey's earlier remark. The toast was held in two hands, delicately grasped at opposite corners. It made a perfect diamond shape, with the exception of a single bite taken out of the top corner. Envoy's eyes stared off into unknowable distances. Whiskey continued to wait, as she had been since that bite had been taken, two minutes ago.

Envoy's mouth chewed once, slowly. There was an odd tremor in her hands.

Smiling, Whiskey slid a jar of jam forwards.


	7. We're your new neighbours

Councillor Tevos had a headache. It was the exact size, shape and volume as Councillor Sparatus.

"Valern, is this report accurate?" she said, hoping her salarian colleague would have better news.

"STG experts can determine no trace of AI handiwork in the Turian fleet's systems. Additionally, there have been no notable disturbances in any monitored extranet channels. No supporting evidence. However, that is what one would expect from a cyber-war optimised AI."

No help there. "Sparatus, why did your people think it was a good idea to attack an unknown species? This is not what First Contact should be like!"

"They were activating Relays, the patrol fleet was well within its rights to stop them. After the first skirmish, we determined that they had no mass effect capable technology. We assumed they were a young race, in over their heads. We stepped in to apply guidance and discipline." replied Sparatus tersely, his mandibles held tightly to the side of his face.

"That appears to have worked _splendidly_." Tevos took a breath and turned to gaze out at the Widow nebula. Its silent beauty helped calm her. "We may be getting ahead of ourselves here. We only have a single Primarch's report and no clear evidence in the matter."

"Primarch Geron is not inclined to flights of fancy. I know the man, he wouldn't have forwarded this report unless he was concerned about it." said Sparatus.

"Lack of hard data on human capabilities is unsettling. Eye witness reports notoriously unreliable." said Valern.

"What concerns me is not just that we know so little about them, but that they know so much about us. Every piece of data in that fleet is gone, and I do not believe for a moment that it was simply deleted." said Tevos.

"A valid assumption. Still, matter should resolve itself soon." said Valern.

"What are you talking about?" asked Sparatus.

"Humans almost certainly have location of Citadel. If they are hostile, they will launch an attack. If they wish to negotiate, they will send diplomats. It benefits no one to wait, so they are most likely already on their way." explained Valern.

"Then we should increase the Citadel Defence Fleet! Prepare!" snapped Sparatus.

"If they are attempting to negotiate, their would be no harm in a show of strength." mused Tevos.

"As long as there are no accidents." added Valern.

**XXXXXXXX**

The Widow Relay spat five ships into Citadel space; one kilometre-long cruiser, flanked by four frigates. Thick armour plates covered their sides; overlapping like the large belly-scales of a serpent. The cruiser was an elongated wedge with a slightly flared back and a flat, rectangular front. A large shaft in its centre was flanked by four smaller barrels. The frigates were a quarter the size of the cruiser and much smoother and rounder, with swept-back wings housing oversized drives.

Aboard the cruiser's command sim, Captain Warren stared at the vid feed suspended in the air in front of him.

"Well, confirmation at last. The Citadel is definitely the Keep. Pretty much the same name, really." he said.

"Indeed sir," noted his Lieutenant. "Though we still don't know why we shouldn't trust it."

"Not for us to figure out. SIA's been running non-stop since we met the Turians. Now that," he added, "is a rather large fleet."

The Citadel Defence Force's numbers had been swelled by emergency reinforcements from its member races. It nearly numbered as much as the original Turian Suppression fleet.

"Sir, we're being hailed. Request for identification, threats if we don't reply." said the Comms tech.

"Open a channel."

A small blue light blinked into existence in front of him. Warren tapped it, and it began to pulse faintly.

"This is the Solar Navy cruiser _By Other Means_. You appear to have been expecting us. We are escorting an ambassador to begin diplomatic negotiations with the Citadel Council. Requesting docking permission." Warren tapped the light again and it stopped pulsing.

"No response, sir." said the Comms tech.

"No, they'll have to call up their bosses, who'll call up their bosses. There'll be yelling and screaming, at least one cup of whatever they have instead of coffee falling on the floor, and we'll be getting a reply right about now."

Silence reigned in the command sim. It then continued to do so.

"Damn. That'd have been pretty sweet." said Warren, grinning slightly.

"Incoming communication," said the Comms tech. "They want us to send one shuttle, no more than five people in the diplomatic party, and we are not to move from our current position."

"We're playing nice. Send them confirmation, then get the ambassador and four guards onto a shuttle. Here's hoping this goes well, but prep for a fast, hot evac just in case." said Warren.

**XXXXXXXX**

M-7 Avaunt stood an even 2 metres tall, and was one of the oldest styles of work-body in the human military. It had originally been based on prototype power-armour, but with an Uploaded pilot, all the space previously needed to fit a human body inside had been replaced and filled by one technological device or another. Seven generations after the first hastily modified suit, the M-7 Avaunt was a preferred combat body for its close resemblance to a human frame, allowing for quick user adaptation and a familiar range of movement.

Four of them now flanked a much shorter figure as he disembarked from a small shuttle onto the Citadel docks. For this mission, they were equipped with large metal packs along their spines, which were in turn covered by large rectangular shields. Awaiting them was a group of C-Sec officers. At the sight of the Avaunts, they all tightened their grips on their weapons.

"Greetings," said the central figure, in perfect Turian. "I am Ambassador Udina. Take me to your leaders."


	8. A Surprisingly Civil Conversation

"Well, at least they're not AI's." said Tevos, as the Councillors watched the vid of the human arrival at the Presidium docks.

"Cannot be certain they do not use AI's," said Valern. "Lack of conclusive data in this regard is suspicious itself. AI use is simplest explanation."

"They're obviously war-like. No peaceful race develops advanced power-armour, or has a fleet half the size of the entire Turian navy in a single system." added Sparatus.

"We simply do not know enough about them to judge. Interesting morphology, similar to the asari, only not blue, and with...fur?" said Valern.

"The similarity is stunning. Still, their sending of a diplomatic envoy is heartening. Perhaps this won't all end in a galaxy-wide war," said Tevos.

Sparatus made a hmph-ing sound.

Heavy footsteps rang on metal floors as the four Avaunts escorted Ambassador Udina up the stairs. A dozen C-Sec guards ringed the upper platform just below the Councillors' stands.

"Councillors, I am Ambassador Udina, representative of Transcendent Humanity. I am here to discuss a peace settlement. The incidents of the last few days have come about in most part due to misunderstandings between our peoples. Hopefully, we can remedy this today."

"Ambassador, welcome to the Citadel. Your arrival was...highly anticipated. We are glad to see that Humanity is pursuing diplomatic options. We feared that your introduction to the wider galaxy might preclude this." said Tevos. To her side, Sparatus held his mandibles tightly to the sides of his face.

"While our First Contact was rather more energetic than we would have liked, it was far better than we feared. The quick response of the Turian Suppression fleet was quite fortuitous in the end as well. It gave us information about the wider galaxy, information that assuaged our fears. Had the Turians held off much longer, well, regrettable actions might have been taken." said Udina.

"What is that supposed to mean?" snapped Sparatus.

"Although this was our first true contact with the wider galaxy, it is not the first we knew of life outside our system. Not long after our people became space-faring, we discovered, on the planet nearest our homeworld, alien ruins. We called the race that left them the Protheans, after the plateau the ruins were found under." explained Udina.

"A common story. Many races discovered Prothean ruins and technologies either on or near their homeworlds. They appear to have enjoyed studying our ancestors. Most galactic technology is based on Prothean design, or is a relic of theirs, such as the Relays and the Citadel itself." said Valern.

"Yes, we gathered as much from your codex. The key difference in humanity's case is our ruins were barren. The only thing was a message, carved into rock. It was in both pictographic symbols and Prothean, and it took our people decades to decode it. Regretfully, in simplifying the message to make it easier to translate, they reduced the amount of information it could communicate. Simply put, it spoke of the Protheans, and their Destroyers. It warned that the Destroyers would kill everything, that the Prothean race was doomed, and that the Destroyers could trace their technology. So, they took everything, and left, in order to keep us safe."

The Council was silent for a moment, considering Udina's words.

"That is...unprecedented. Very little is known about the Protheans, so an actual message from them, detailing their fall? It would be a scientific and cultural discovery of galactic proportions." said Tevos.

"Opportunity to observe the Prothean message would be valuable to us. Given its contents, we can certainly understand human reaction to Turian intervention." said Valern.

Tevos glanced towards her salarian counterpart, but it was Sparatus who answered.

"You thought we were the Destroyers," he said.

"Yes. Had the Turian Suppression fleet not supplied us with information to the contrary, we would have assumed ourselves to be under an extinction-level threat. We would have reacted accordingly." said Udina.

"Your actions have spoken well of your temperament so far. You had the Turian fleet at your mercy, and returned them all to Palaven unharmed," said Tevos.

"Minus a few ships," added Sparatus.

"We retained a few ships for analysis. We would be happy enough to return the materials to you if you would like. As to the fate of the fleet, we hold no ill-will towards the Turians. After analysing the codex, we understand why they attacked us, though we would have of course preferred to be informed. The Rachni Wars do not seem to be a time anyone would wish to revisit." said Udina.

"You expect us to believe that you did not mind being attacked?" asked Sparatus incredulously.

"There were no human casualties. The ships that were destroyed were easily replaced. First Contact has hurt the Turians far more than it did us, though given that they attacked first, I hope you understand we will not be paying reparations." said Udina.

"You do not seem to be requesting them either." said Tevos.

"As I said, we have not been hurt by First Contact. We feel that moving forwards would be more beneficial to our races." said Udina.

"How so?" asked Valern.

"I will be direct, Councillors. Humanity wants peace. We have no desire to war with anyone. If necessary, we will, but peace will always be our first choice." said Udina.

"A civilised sentiment, Ambassador, although we have several concerns that need addressing before humanity would be allowed to join the Citadel races." said Tevos.

"A generous offer, Councillor, but one which we could not accept." said Udina.

A shocked silence spread through the room, broken only by several soft gasps from the watching Council staff.

"No race has ever turned down an offer to join the Citadel! We are the centre of the civilised galaxy!" exclaimed Sparatus.

"A simple question, Councillors. Would we be joining as a member of the Council, or as a 'minor' race?" asked Udina.

"Council membership is only given to those races who have proven themselves. Younger races still require guidance, and time to grow into maturity," said Tevos carefully.

"If you say, but humanity is not a younger race. The current year by Council measurement is 2657 Galactic-Standard, correct? Two thousand, six hundred and fifty-seven years since the asari and salarians first met and formed the Council," said Udina.

"That is true," said Tevos.

"Humanity's current system measures the number of years since we first discovered the Prothean Message. By that standard, it is the year 2742 After-Prothean. If our local Relay hadn't been buried and locked, we might have beaten to salarians to the Citadel." announced Udina.

"That's impossible! Your race isn't even advanced enough to utilise Element Zero!" yelped Sparatus.

"I fail to see how a single branch of technology is the defining feature of a race's eligibility as 'advanced' or not. Our home system contains no Element Zero." said Udina.

"Then how are you able to use FTL? Element Zero is essential for all known forms." said Valern.

"We don't. Humanity never developed FTL. It is only the recent discovery of our local Relay that has allowed us to venture forth." said Udina.

"You claim to have been space-faring for over two and a half thousand years, and yet you never developed FTL?" said Sparatus.

"As you said, Element Zero is essential for all known forms. We had no Element Zero," repeated Udina. "We have been bound to a single system for all of our history, prior to just a few days ago."

"How large is the human population? A sudden influx of immigrants could potentially cause harm to the galactic economy." said Tevos.

"That will not be a concern. Our total population is close to two trillion, but the majority of that is virtual." said Udina.

"Virtual? You mean artificial?" asked Tevos. Here at last was the answer they had sought, and feared.

"No. Humanity never developed AI. In fact, that the Citadel races seem to be able to do so with such ease that their creation has been banned is a source of fascination and interest to our scientists." said Udina.

"Then what do you mean by 'virtual'?" asked Tevos.

"Almost two thousand years ago humanity developed a process we call 'Uploading'. It is the transference of conciousness from an organic brain to a digital format." explained Udina.

"Impossible!" exclaimed Valern. "Quantum uncertainty necessitates complete destruction of organic tissue to ensure accurate transference of information."

"Correct."

"You butcher your own people to create AI copies?" said Sparatus incredulously.

"Be careful Councillor," said Udina tightly. "You are treading on two thousand years of cultural heritage here. Uploaded _are _the person they were before. As your salarian counterpart said, it is a perfect transference, at the cost of the original substrate. We are all human, no matter what body we choose to wear."

"I suppose your 'guards' are Uploaded?" asked Sparatus, glancing at the Avaunts. The C-Sec guards shifted slightly.

"We all are." answered Udina.

"You're an Uploaded? But you look organic!" said Tevos.

"I am. This body is only several hours old. The acceleration our ships undergo is sufficient to liquefy anything organic. I travelled here aboard the quantum substrate present in the _By Other Means_, then had an organic body patterned on my original DNA printed off the ship's bio-reactor." said Udina.

"Bio-reactor?" said Valern curiously, cutting of Sparatus who had opened his mouth, mandibles flared wide.

"A device capable of constructing organic tissue from basic chemicals. Humanity has had a lot of time to perfect efficient construction and harvesting methods." explained Udina.

"Such technology would be incredibly beneficial to galactic medicine." said Tevos. To her right, Sparatus was flexing his mandibles.

"We believe that humanity has much to offer the rest of the galaxy, and we are sure you have much to offer us. What we desire is simple: we wish to be at peace with the Citadel races, and to be allowed to increase our holdings. Do not be concerned about a massive expansion though; having a single additional system already has doubled our living space. We are used to making the most of what we have. We would claim those systems directly linked to the Arcturus Relay, and would not expand further without first clearing it with the Council." said Udina.

"The Arcturus Relay is located on the fringes of Citadel space, and only links to a few systems without current claims to them." said Tevos. "We will have to consider this matter. This may take some time." she added, glancing at Sparatus.

"Of course, Councillors." said Udina.

"You are welcome to enjoy the hospitality of the Presidium while we confer, although we will insist on an escort at all times." said Tevos.

"I understand perfectly, Councillor."

Udina turned, and proceeded down the Council steps. The Avaunts turned with him, one of them between him and the surrounding C-Sec guards at all times.

"Shall we retire to some more comfortable chambers? I believe I will need a drink after that conversation," said Tevos.


	9. Tea, buns, and deliberation

Most races of the galaxy, upon discovering alcohol, dedicate large portions of their energy into creating ever more strange and powerful variants. The asari were the exception. They had alcohol, certainly, and quite enjoyed it, but their true claim to fame in the intoxicating drinks department were their teas. The right mix of herbs bleeding their complex chemicals into varieties of steaming liquids; asari teas could do anything. Incite the emotions, arouse the body, elevate the senses, trigger week-long hallucinogenic trips, put the drinker into a soporific coma, even—it was rumoured—give temporary biotic powers to other races.

The last one was a misconception. True, certain blends of 'Eternal Blue' contained high amounts of trace eezo, but they rarely did anything more for non-asari than produce a faint light show and give them Element Zero poisoning. To an asari however, the best quality Eternal Blue teas calmed the mind and invigorated the body. Its powerful effects, and high cost, resulted in the tea usually being served in a small delicate glass.

Tevos refilled her mug.

"Personally," said Sparatus, "I am unsure whether to be more or less worried about humanity."

"Indeed," said Valern, "Their suing for peace, and freedom with information, are positive results. Their technology could greatly benefit the rest of the galaxy."

"Yet, they are as close as makes no difference to AI's. They do not seem to fear us, and the information they offered, while useful, is nothing more than what they know about us. Basic descriptive data that would suit the codex." said Tevos, sipping from her mug.

"Their request for Council permission before expanding was heartening." said Valern.

Sparatus scoffed. "And behind those polite words was the fact that it was mere courtesy. While the fact that they are asking is encouraging, I do not believe for a single moment that they are actually waiting on our permission."

"Quite. They desire peace, and I see no reason to withhold it, but their military power and technological advancement do raise serious concerns." said Tevos.

"I for one, say we agree with their terms. The ask for nothing they couldn't take, or that we need, and they hold the possibility of a technological revolution." said Valern.

They both turned to look at Sparatus. His right mandible flexed slightly before he sighed and replied, "Agreed. I do not trust them, and I recommended we increase military spending as well as the number of patrols along our new border, but war is not desirable at this point. Too many unknowns, and what is known is not indicative of victory for us, or anyone."

Tevos nodded, and sipped at her tea again. Sparatus could be remarkably stubborn, hot-headed, arrogant—she stopped herself and took another sip—but he was no fool.

"What of their report on the demise of the Protheans?" asked Valern.

"Possible, if unlikely. Even if the Protheans were wiped out by these 'Destroyers', they do not exist any more. We wouldn't be here if they did. Humanity's paranoia should be alleviated once they see more of the galaxy." said Sparatus.

"Humanity has a great many things we would benefit greatly from. Their resemblance to synthetics is...disquieting, but despite that," Tevos paused, weighing her next words, "should we consider offering them a seat on the Council?"

"What? We've barely even met them! This morning, they were an unknown threat!" snarled Sparatus.

"Other races likely to be upset if newcomers gain a seat before them." said Valern.

"I did not mean right away. Should we extend the _potential_ of a Council seat to them. Their ambassador was correct, if they are a race older than the salarians, and economically, military and technologically more powerful than any other individual race, asking them to be a client race is an insult. Offer them the chance to join us, and then they must fall under our rules, and our treaties; though I can only assume they'll want to re-negotiate a lot of those," explained Tevos.

"Humanity cannot be brought under our control through military means, and are too proud to become clients. Options are either let them become independent affiliates, or give them recognition and control, in order to control them in turn," agreed Valern.

"Hmm, they'd have to allow Spectre access as well." mused Sparatus.

"Yes. It would give us a chance to gain a more well-rounded picture of humanity, as well as enhance the probability of beneficial trade agreements." said Valern.

Tevos sighed. Her mug was empty again. "Of course, that's if their ambassador accepts."

** X**

The C-Sec guards were nervous. There were twelve of them in total; two for each of their human charges, and two spare. Others were less visible, and watched from corners, cams and air-cars. They had been present when the revelation of the Uploaded had occurred, and were uncomfortable with the idea. These hulking, stomping metal monsters had no vulnerable people inside. If it came to it, couldn't they simply jump to another body? How did you take down something that regards a body as disposable? The fact that the humans had been conversing continuously in a language their omni-tools couldn't translate wasn't helping.

"They're terrified of us, aren't they?" said Udina in Human.

Much like the rest of the galaxy, humanity's various languages had homogenised over the centuries. There were still accents, dialects and purist variants around, but most humans simply spoke Human.

"I wouldn't say terrified, sir. They're nervous and uncertain, but they are observing the surroundings as much as us, and they still have parade-perfect discipline. If they start getting fidgety, then we'd have trouble," responded his lead guard, currently named Avaunt One. One's voice was perfectly human, without a trace of synthesised electronic buzz, and she sounded rather excited under her formal tones of command.

"From what the codex said, these Turians take their military discipline very seriously. Disobeying an order, _any_ order, is worse than obeying a bad one. 'I was just following orders' isn't an excuse for them, it's their creed," commented Avaunt Three, who had a voice that was deep and gravelly.

"That hasn't flown in Sol since before the Message," said Udina.

"Indeed sir, but they do things differently out here. You read the entry on batarians?" said One.

"I did. There are some very big discussions happening back home right now in regards to how much we are going to be meddling out here, or even if we should," said Udina.

"Sounds heavy. Say sir, where are we heading?" piped up Avaunt Two, his voice high but focussed.

"I am the first organic human to stand upon the Citadel. The first to breathe its air, to see its sights, to speak with its leaders. I," said Udina, pausing for a moment, "am going to find what passes for a cafe around here."

** X**

Teyin slumped on the counter despondently. Why had she thought this would be a good idea? She'd begged her mother for the capital and favours necessary to set it up, and when she had tried to dissuade Teyin, Teyin had insisted it would work! A multi-species tea-house, right on the Presidium! The movers and shakers of the galaxy, rubbing shoulders with each other, drinking her teas, eating her foods!

Which was when the problems started. She knew how to make asari foods and drinks, but the Blue Lagoon was a much older, more established venue. Asari didn't change their habits much, and the diplomats on the Citadel had been going to the Blue Lagoon for centuries. The matriarch who had been running it that whole time had been making snide offers of employment to her all week, 'in case your little shop falls through'.

So, she made asari food and drink, which no asari would try. The turians couldn't eat it, and she currently lacked the permits (that damn matriarch again, she was sure of it!) to make dextro foods for them. And the quarians, she supposed, but it's not like they'd eat at her place either. The volus had the wrong bio-chemistry too, and her last attempt to make a traditional vrokl for one of her volus friends had literally exploded. Stupid ammonia/methane fish.

Elcor, salarian, hanar; all ate foods that were done better elsewhere. She could make the food, but other establishments, run by their own particular species, did it better. She'd had a single drell customer three weeks ago, who'd quite enjoyed her cooking. She'd never seen a drell before, or since.

Vorcha and krogan were kept out of the Presidium by C-Sec, so she couldn't even rely on those walking garbage disposals. That left only batarians, and the looks the few regulars of that species had been giving her recently made her feel the need to wash herself afterwards.

She sighed, resting her forehead on the cool counter top. She'd tried. If she just had more time, she might be able to draw in some of the younger asari.

"Excuse me, ma'am?" said a voice from in front of her.

Teyin jerked upright, startled and embarrassed that she'd been ignoring a valued customer. She opened her mouth to apologise, and froze.

Before her stood what looked like a furry asari, four massive suits of armour, and twelve C-Sec guards. She blushed violet. How had she missed this many people coming in?

"Ma'am?" said the furry asari.

Her voice was oddly deep. Wait, hadn't there been rumours that a new race had been contacted? She did share several characteristics with batarians, could this creature be a male? A male that looked like a flat-chested, deep-voiced asari?

All seventeen people were staring at her. Well, some of the C-Sec guards were looking everywhere, and the suits of armour didn't have faces, just strange metallic plates, but she was the centre of attention.

"Can I help you?" she managed to get out.

"I saw your sign outside. 'We serve all species(*)'. I was wondering what you had?" said the male.

"Well, I am afraid I don't know your species, so I can't guarantee anything I have would be to your taste, and if you're dextro-amnio like the turians, I don't currently have anything for you, but perhaps you'd like to try some asari pastry?" she blurted.

"I'm a human. Pleasure to meet you, Miss ?" asked the male.

"Miss?" she blinked in confusion. "Oh, my name is Teyin. Sorry, asari don't really have an honorific for married/unmarried and I know that omnitools have trouble translating that from the turian word for 'virtuous unmated' so you're probably speaking turian and I'm babbling again, sorry, they really are nice pastries."

The human smiled at her. "Then I shall have to try one. What would you recommend that's sweet?"

She took a breath. Calm, Teyin, calm. Asari grace and all that. You're representing your species in microcosm here.

That didn't help.

"Well, my personal favourite is the itylli seed bun. Your choice of toppings, but I always go with the blueberry myself." she said.

That was half true. She'd always loved itylli buns, but three months of eating that day's unsold wares to save money on dinner had nearly cured her of that.

"Blueberry? We have those, probably a very different fruit though. Not a particularly original name when you think about it. I'll have one of those, thank you." said the human.

Teyin placed the bun on a small plate and passed it to the human. She watched as he slowly bit into it.

"How is it, sir?" asked one of the suits of armour behind him. She'd nearly forgotten they were there. They hadn't even twitched a muscle.

The human was silent until he had finished the bun. "When I go back to the Council chambers, if they try to bribe me with money or power, I will not be moved, but a plate of these would tempt me. They are superb, my dear," he said to Teyin. "Are all your pastries of such quality?"

Teyin glanced down at the many racks of fresh pastries before her counter. She looked back up, and answered.

"They are, sir. Perhaps you'd like to try some more?"

"I believe I would. My friends here will be covering the bill," he said, gesturing towards the C-Sec guards.

Teyin smiled. Even if he was the only human she ever served, the mild notoriety of being the first place to serve a new species would draw the curious. She might make rent this week after all!


	10. Interrogate, Converse, Panic

"Try to be more precise, Lieutenant."

"I am trying," snapped Takarn. "You're asking me to recall what I saw onscreen for the few _seconds_ before everything went down."

"And you have been incredibly vague, almost to the point of obstruction," replied his Salarian debriefer.

"I am not hiding anything! I'm _Turian_, we don't have your perfect memory! All I saw was my tactical screen get filled with contacts, more than I could count. Thousands, at the least."

The debriefer did that particular sigh unique to Salarians whenever they were disappointingly reminded of the terrible memories and slower thinking of other races. Takarn hated that little, short sigh. It was like his mother's, only _sharper_.

"During the period when all ship systems were down, did you make any observations of the Human fleet?" asked the Salarian.

"All our Omni-tools were wiped, but there wasn't anything else to do but look. Could only see the ships and emplacements closest to us. There were a dozen dreadnought-sized ships, but they were being deployed like cruisers."

"How could you tell?" interrupted the Salarian.

Takarn glared at him. "Because I'm a Turian whose duty is to monitor my tac screen for contacts. I can tell the difference between a Batarian slaver running for cover and a Quarian crew in a salvaged Batarian slave ship running for cover. It's what I do."

"Very well," said the Salarian, making notes on his Omni-tool. "Continue."

"There were a lot of smaller ships, hundreds, of all sorts of sizes and shapes, but I only saw two types larger than the cruisers. One of them must have been a true dreadnought; it was almost five kilometres long."

"How did you determine that without instruments?" interrupted the Salarian again.

"Our Omni-tools still worked. We thought they were working just fine, until we got back to Palaven and found they were empty. My 'tool told me the dreadnoughts were five kilometres long, and it was using the standard Turian military sensor suite." Takarn ground out. He was rapidly losing his calm with this Salarian.

The Salarian, with typical Salarian indifference, waved for him to continue.

"Anyway, last ship type was even larger than the dreadnoughts. In fact, it looked like it was made of five dreadnought hulls, with four attached to the central one in a cross shape. Here, I made a sketch."

Takarn activated his new Omni-tool, his old one having been confiscated by the STG for analysis. He called up the image he had been working on. More than any other, these ships had stuck in his mind.

The image he displayed clearly showed a long, squat cylinder with four identical cylinders attached in a '+' to its front. The Salarian stared at it for a moment before speaking.

"What do you think is the purpose of this ship? Given that the Humans could make five dreadnoughts for one of them, they must be capable of great devastation."

"That's the strange thing. From how their ships were formed, I'd almost say it was a support ship."

"This ship would barely fit inside the Citadel with its arms at maximum extension. Nine of them would not only be the same volume as the Citadel, but out-mass it by a significant amount. You are suggesting that such a vessel is a support ship?"

"From their positioning, yeah."

The Salarian looked at his notes for a few minutes, then, without warning, got up and left. Takarn knew he'd be back within half an hour, just like the last three times. He took this opportunity to have a nap.

** X**

"Ambassador Udina, welcome back. I trust you enjoyed your tour of the Presidium?" announced Tevos.

"Quite an impressive sight, though I only saw a small portion. I hope your deliberations were productive?" responded Udina.

"They were. Although no formal state of war has been declared as of yet, it is the position of the Citadel Council that Transcendent Humanity will be welcomed as fellow members of the galactic community, and are permitted to expand to those systems immediate to the Arcturus Relay." said Tevos.

"I am quite relived to hear that Councillors." said Udina, smiling broadly.

"There is another matter we wish to address, however." said Sparatus.

"We wish to offer humanity membership to the Council." said Tevos.

"I am sorry Councillors, but I believe I have already turned down such an offer." responded Udina.

"Yes, you did. Your points were well received however, and that is why we wish to offer you a Council seat." said Valern.

"That...is most unexpected, Councillors." said a visibly shocked Udina.

"In is unprecedented," said Sparatus, "and it would not be immediate."

"We would have to understand humanity better, make sure that your race would be suited. Certain standards would have to be met."

Udina's face calmed again. "Indeed. For both sides. This offer, to be frank, is more than I am currently able to authorise. But I can tell you, that we could not accept it until certain issues were resolved."

"Issues such as?" asked Tevos.

"The most obvious? As your laws stand, the majority of our population could be either euthanised or arrested. We are not AI's, but your laws make no distinction. Your laws on genetic engineering, dreadnought construction, cybernetic modification and innumerable smaller issues have the potential to essentially outlaw the majority of our civilisation. Of course, our laws may similarly impact upon your own. Unlike the majority of other races you have encountered, we cannot accept your laws as they stand. We would be willing to negotiate though." said Udina.

"You would negotiate an offer of a Council seat?" growled Sparatus. "There is no greater honour than to join the Council."

"Councillors, as long as you see it in terms of _us_ joining _you_, there will be problems. Transcendent Humanity's history nearly eclipses your own. The Voice will not accept subsumation." said Udina.

"The Voice?" asked Valern.

"The Voice speaks for humanity. It is to the Voice I will make my report, and my recommendation. The Voice will decide whether we accept your proposal." said Udina.

"The Voice is your leader?" asked Tevos.

"Not as such. The Voice is the aggregated opinion and belief of Transcendent Humanity. It is _our_ Voice. It does not rule us, we give birth to it."

"A collective conciousness?" inquired Valern.

"No. All races have a collective will. What would be the turian response to an unprovoked attack on Palaven?" asked Udina.

"War," responded Sparatus tightly.

"That is the collective will of a race. Ours simply speaks for itself. I will submit your proposal, and all recorded data I have collected, to my direct superiors. They will then disseminate it throughout Sol. Humanity as a whole will decide whether to accept your proposal, and any conditions we may place upon it."

"It would appear these discussions are at an end until the Voice makes its decision." said Tevos

"That would be correct, Councillor." said Udina.

"Then, please convey our welcome to the galactic community back to Sol, and our hopes for lasting peace and unity," said Tevos.

"Thank you, Councillors. We'll be in touch," said Udina, before bowing slightly in perfect unison with his guards. They turned, and left.

"We will look back on this day and wish we'd shot them all." said Sparatus once the human delegation was gone.

"Quite possibly," said Tevos. "Or we will mark it as the start of a something wonderful."

"Either way, there are plans to make, agents to contact, intelligence to gather," said Valern. "One thing is certain: we must proceed with caution. We still know little about humanity, while they know much about us."

** X**

"You know what, Lieutenant? When I got a shiny message from the Solar Council itself, requesting my services in guarding a diplomatic envoy to what may be the most important negotiation in human history, I never expected it to be this boring." Warrens said, slouching deeper into his command chair.

His arse was going numb. That was a high-grade military sim for you. To ensure maximum functionality by the crew, the highest possible quality of simulation was enacted. His steaming cup of coffee, as virtual as everything else, didn't just taste like coffee, it acted like coffee. He took a sip, and smiled. At least they'd managed to shout down the purists who'd wanted the sims to be accurate, as well as realistic. This was damn good coffee. He shifted again, trying to get comfortable. Regretfully, human physiology was one thing the purists had managed to wrangle in. 'Discomfort serves a valuable purpose in keeping crew alert' they'd said. Bastards probably sat in tropical beach sims or something, and did their paperwork in hammocks.

"Maybe the Ambassador will screw things up, and we'll have to shoot our way out?" replied the Lieutenant.

"Nah, Udina's a sly bastard. Politician to the core. If this falls through, it won't be his doing. Guy's a snake, but a charming one."

"Maybe the Council won't see reason?"

"If they've gone this long without opening fire on us, we're probably safe. Unless someone does something stupid."

"Sir, we've got a knock on the door," piped up the Comms tech. "Ghost-ident Tango 77d5-a284. Pass-phrase correct."

"Let him in," said Warrens, as he sat up in his chair.

The world broke. Fracture lines of howling rainbow static peeled away from a rent in the air before Warrens. His pristine command sim flickered, and for a moment raw cyberspace crawled at his senses. Something moved within that terrifyingly energetic abyss, something with dozens of limbs; something orbited by a hundred smaller objects that spun round a central core. As the thing forced itself into Warrens' reality, its tendrils hooked onto the raw edges of the hole in the world, and pulled them close behind it. As the gaping maw slid shut, the creature coalesced into a pale young man with silver hair and electric-blue eyes. Occasionally, he flickered.

"There was a door, Ghost Tango." said Warrens as he fought the feeling that his eyes were crossed, and his ears on backwards.

"Sorry Captain, I think I broke it on the way in. Patched it up for you though, better than new." said Tango. He looked worried.

"You have something to report?" asked Warrens. He wasn't going to make a big deal out of Tango's violation of reality. Ghosts were so adapted to raw cyberspace that it took them effort to fit into sims without breaking them, although they themselves could always see the underlying code.

"I have something that needs further investigation. A lot of further investigation. Did Whiskey tell you about the Citadel code architecture?"

"It was mentioned, but the geth were the main focus. Why? And weren't you supposed to go with the geth?" asked Warrens.

"There was no need to go far. The geth have backdoors across half the extranet. I was in their servers-cities within an hour of Whiskey leaving. Found out some rather uncomfortable stuff, came back to the Citadel to confirm a hunch, and am now considering myself lucky I no longer have pants to piss."

"What did you find?" asked Warrens, as he sipped his coffee. Ghosts may joke around, but they were cyber special forces. It took a lot to scare one.

"The quick, pithy one-liner to yell back to Sol ASAP? The Destroyers aren't gone."


	11. A Bit of Fun, Then Back to Work

Udina's shuttle slipped gracefully into the _By Other Means_' hangar. He disembarked alone, his Avaunt companions staying onboard, ready for deployment. They wouldn't even be leaving their bodies and joining the main sim, instead patching in through a secondary feed. If needed, they were ready to go.

Udina made his way through the small hangar to a small closet-like room. He stepped inside and closed the door. Just before his body liquefied and was reabsorbed into the ship's bio-reactor reserves, he thought of those itylli seed buns.

After a brief feeling of disembodiment, he arrived in the command sim.

"Negotiations were a success, Captain," Udina said. "We have an offer of peace, and more, that I need to relay to Sol. We must make all possible haste in our return."

"Way ahead of you Ambassador," said Warrens. "We got some rather unpleasant intel from Ghost Tango here, and we were just waiting for you to lam it the hell out of here."

"Intel more important than a successful cease-fire with the entire galactic community?" said Udina dryly.

"Intel that makes that cease-fire either irrelevant or essential." said Warrens.

"We've been cleared by Citadel control. Flight-path all laid out back to the relay." announced the Comms tech.

"Then hit it. None of that polite, non-threatening cruising we were doing when we arrived either." ordered Warrens.

"Aye aye sir," replied Helm.

Smoothly, and perfectly synchronised, the five human ships pirouetted to face the Widow Relay. Once aimed correctly, their drives fired as one. Citadel control weren't particularly surprised by their speed; it was fast, but nothing too exciting.

It wasn't until later that they realised why they should have been very worried about that fact.

X

Having no FTL, the human ships were limited in their travel speed. Relay transit worked fine thanks to the Singularity drives, but travel across a system to another Relay had to be done at sub-light speed. They alternatively leapt and crawled back towards Sol, and were on the far edges of Council space when they encountered trouble.

"Sir, we're picking up a dozen ships. Data says they're a batarian/turian mix. They are powering weapons and heading straight for us. Range is 0.5 light-seconds."

"I thought this might happen." said Warrens.

"What do you mean, captain?" asked Udina.

"Ambassador, you're good at your job, and I'm good at mine. The Council may want peace, some of them anyway, but they also want hard data on our capabilities. Our lack of FTL was always going to bite us in the arse. Lieutenant! Send them a polite but firm 'piss off', and then prime the guns for when they ignore us."

"The Council set this up?" asked Udina.

"Can't be certain, but I'd put money on it. We have to crawl at sub-light from Relay to Relay. They send a message on ahead, get some 'non-affilited' mercs to attack us, and they get a nice clean way to see what we're made of. They claim pirate activity, wring their hands in regret for any losses we may suffer, and then run home to analyse our tactics and technology. So, order of the day: show them why not to do that again."

"No response sir." said the Comms tech.

"Any opening for a cyber attack?" asked Warrens.

"No sir, they aren't even listening to us. No external channels open. No hack attempts possible."

"Ahem." said Tango.

"You can do better, Ghost?" asked Warrens. It wasn't a challenge, really. Cyber-war was what Ghosts did, after all.

"I have a few ideas. No systems is ever fool-proof. You just have to find the right fool." said Tango.

"How long 'til we're in range?" asked Warrens.

"Optimal firing range in 150 seconds." answered Weapons.

"Go do your thing, Ghost." said Warrens.

Tango grinned, and burned a hole out of reality.

X

Volp sat in his bunk, tired. So the captain gets a tip-off about some new race with primitive tech, and starts drooling over the chance to get first dibs on new slaves and plunder. Did that mean they had to tear across half the galaxy, pushing the ship to breaking point, to get here first? Volp hadn't been able to sleep for hours for all the rattling.

He glanced at the other, empty bunks. Could be worse, he thought. Could be a tech or a raider rather than the ship's cook. Then he'd be on duty now.

His omnitool chimed. Checking his messages, he found a new one.

"Tarth, your daughter is out of control. Look at what she was caught wearing!" it said. It had a small attachment for an image file.

Tarth was a pretty common batarian name. There were at least three Tarths onboard, in fact. This message was probably meant for one of them. He should open the image just to check. Yes, it would only be responsible of him to see the scandalous young woman's clothing.

He tapped the icon to open the image, and then froze when the lights went out a moment later. As emergency lights activated and klaxons began to sound, Volg very carefully deleted the message, scrubbed his omnitool, and started pretending he'd been asleep the whole time.

X

"Seven ships affected, Captain, two in full shut-down." said the Sensor tech.

"Nice work, Tango." said Warrens, as the tactical display updated to show the disabled ships.

"Entering optimal weapons range in twenty seconds, sir." said Weapons.

"Time to put on a show. Load the pop-guns" said Warrens.

"Loading pop-guns, aye." said Weapons.

Down in the core of the _By Other Means_, four ensigns jumped into action. Each was currently an auto-loading system, and they felt their guts churn as a particular ammo type was selected. Carefully guiding the first rounds in, they sent a signal to Weapons before ensuring the next rounds were ready to load.

"Pop-gun rounds loaded, ready to fire on your order, Captain." said Weapons.

"Mess 'em up, Lieutenant."

The four smaller barrels of the _By Other Means'_ secondary guns fired in unison. In a longer battle, they'd fire in sequence, each punching out a round every second. In this engagement, unified fire was the order of the day.

The rounds were two metres long, and a metre thick. They were fired at one half percent of the speed of light.

The active pirate ships had opened fire by now too, their weapons impacting on the thick armour of the human ships, pitting and scoring, but not penetrating it. Most missiles that got close were shot down by plasma-based point defence turrets that vomited sprays of short-range range plasma toroids at near-luminal velocity. The few that connected and managed to pierce armour had surprisingly little effect. No atmosphere vented, and repair drones swarmed the impact sites within moments, spraying a temporary alloy patch over the holes in the armour.

The cheerfully named 'pop-gun' rounds reached activation range. Each flayed open and released a cloud of smaller, five centimetre flechettes. Each flechette began communicating with the others as soon as it was launched, with the remains of the pop-gun rounds' main canisters serving as network hubs. Their tiny minds and minuscule sensors, thus shared, were magnified, and allowed each little missile to orientate itself directly towards an enemy, with priority clusters aimed at valuable systems. The fletchettes, whose bodies were mainly composed of a rare and expensive transuranic element considered too massive for use in starship armour, activated their drives.

Drive is perhaps ascribing too much complexity to the devices. Several milligrams of antimatter met their normal matter cousins in armoured cocoons meant only to ensure that the solid front half of the missiles shot directly forwards rather than be instantaneously atomised.

Each of the pirate ships were struck by hundreds, if not thousands, of darts of annihilation-propelled metal. Those ships whose shields were untouched by Tango's attack resisted the first hundred impacts, before failing after a microsecond. They remained mostly intact, and even boasted a survivor or two who was not near a vital, and targeted, system. The other ships were rendered into an expanding cloud of shrapnel and vapour as thousand of impacts shredded them.

The human ships passed through the cloud's outskirts as they burned towards the Relay, once again unopposed.

The Solar Council were silent. They each considered the impact of the information Captain Warrens and Ghost Tango had brought back to them. Their meeting room seemed even darker than usual. Eventually, Casual spoke.

"Well," he said, "at least we're at peace with the Citadel races."

"A tentative peace, one not helped by Captain Warrens' destruction of what were most likely Council agents." said Tuxedo.

"Sacrificial cat's paws. They wanted to get some hard data on our capabilities, data we've denied them so far. Warrens may have been rather, ah, enthusiastic, but as long as he didn't use the big guns, I stand by his actions. It was Udina's job to convince them we don't want war, and Warrens' to convince them _they_ don't." said Military.

"Given the intel Ghost Tango brought back, war is less preferable than ever." said Casual.

"Or more preferable." said Lab-coat. "If we were to take control, we may be able to take the appropriate measures without interference."

"If. If we could win the war before the Destroyers notice, if we can rebuild before they attack, if the war is even winnable, and not a long, bitter struggle. And what would these appropriate measures be? Aside from Tango's report, we have astonishingly little information." said Military.

"Perhaps then, we should confirm Ghost Tango's report before starting a galactic war?" said Robe.

"The intel he got from the geth has been confirmed by Envoy. I still think they are trustworthy, even in light of this information." said Military.

"Why didn't Envoy inform us of this during our previous negotiations? The geth seem almost incapable of deception on any other front." asked Tuxedo.

"They do not deceive, but they know what 'Restricted Access Data' is. They kept the existence of the heretics and of Nazara's offer from us because we weren't allies at that point." said Lab-coat.

"Why did the main geth consensus tell Tango then?" asked Casual.

"Envoy is approximately 5000 programs working together. It's probably as smart as all of us put together, in some ways. The main geth consensus has billions of programs, if not more. It decided to grant Tango access to their restricted data in order to warn us of the threat." said Lab-coat.

"As if our PR job with the geth wasn't going to be hard enough, now we have the heretics out there actually being the marauding evil robots the galaxy fears the true geth to be." said Tuxedo. "If we can get some hard evidence, it will help our case there immensely."

"Ghost Tango's report on the Citadel computer architecture is backed up by observances made by Ghost Whiskey. At this point in time, it would appear that the Citadel is Destroyer-built." said Military.

"I have a hard enough time decoding what those Ghosts saw myself. I trust that they saw what they saw, but to anyone who hasn't spent a few decades driving themselves mad in raw cyberspace, it's just speculation at best." said Casual.

"So, we know the Destroyers aren't gone, and most likely built both the Relay network and the Citadel. We know this, because both the geth and a class of Uploaded considered by most to be moderately insane told us." summarised Tuxedo. He sighed. "The Citadel Council isn't going to buy any of that."

"Screw the Citadel. We don't need them." said Lab-coat.

"We need their Relays," said Military. "And we need their Element Zero."

"Not for much longer." answered Lab-coat.

The other four turned to stare at her.

"What? You think we came up with the Singularity drive, from scratch, in just a decade? We've been working towards this kind of thing for the last two thousand years. Let me put this plainly for you, we didn't need their eezo, we needed their math." she said.

"Perhaps you could say it a little less plainly than that?" asked Military wryly.

"Fine, eezo is uranium, and we've got fusion reactors." said Lab-coat. "We missed out on all the fun with fission, lost all the wonderful benefits it could have given us, and we couldn't crack how fusion worked because we had neither the math nor the correct models. Then these guys come along, show off their nice fission power, and we suddenly know how atoms work. Bam, all those old projects that had promise but never went anywhere? Solved. Fixed. We knew the Singularity drive was possible for _four hundred years_, but we didn't have the math to get it to work. Dozens of other previous dead-end projects are being restarted now."

"How could it have helped that much?" asked Casual.

"It was like trying to find the Higgs Boson with an optical microscope. We had the theory, but we couldn't test it. So, it was just paper, along with dozens of other theories. The equations and theoretical models we developed from studying eezo from the Sol Relay, never mind the data we've lifted from the Citadel races, have expanded our knowledge of how the universe works so much, I am confident we'll have our own FTL drives based on Singularity tech within the century. No eezo required." said Lab-coat.

"While that's a fantastic development, the geth data would suggest we don't have a century." said Casual.

"The geth data also suggests these things like working behind the scenes, and have been doing this for a long time. We may not find any conclusive evidence before they actually attack." said Military.

"In the meantime, the Council's offer of a seat demands a rather more immediate response." said Tuxedo.

"We began dissemination of the Council's offer an hour ago. We are expecting the discussion to reach appropriate density within the next six. Once the Voice has spoken, we will respond. Personally, I am for it." said Robe.

"And I'm against." said Military. "They couldn't beat us by force, so they're going to get us with bureaucracy instead."

"We are not entirely defenceless in that area." commented Tuxedo. "If they intend to tie us up in red tape and defang us with litigation, I assure you we will do the same to them. Although the risks are obvious, I personally think that joining them gives us the best chance of achieving our current goals of introducing the geth into wider society, and preparing for the Destroyers."

"I don't care either way. If we're with them, we can push for joint research and shared intel. If we aren't then we can be a bit more aggressive with out data retrieval." said Lab-coat.

"I'm for it. New people, new places. I trust our legal systems won't annihilate each other on contact, and being part of the Council gives us more push to ask for certain things. Personally, the fact that the Batarians haven't been censured, and by that I mean shot, and the Quarians haven't been given a new colony world, regardless of their ancestors' actions, is to me a gross violation of human rights." said Casual.

After a moment, he added, "I mean sapient rights. Which I'd hold to be much the same thing."

"You know," said Tuxedo, "that raises a decent point. It is our job, first and foremost, to protect humanity. But when we say, 'humanity', do we mean specifically Earth-descended sapients? Or are we referring to that rather more ephemeral quality of 'person-hood'?"

"I'm not following what difference that makes." said Lab-coat.

Military groaned. "That opens up avenues to issues I have no desire to get entangled in."

"It is a valid point. We can all agree that, for example, the Batarian slave-trade must be dealt with," said Robe to the agreeing nods of the others, "but what of the diseases or accidents our technology could prevent? Those numbers represent death on a scale beyond that caused by even such a prevalent problem as the Batarians, but are we going to grant access to our technology to prevent them?"

"I see your point," said Lab-coat. "We are dealing with a major 'us vs them' situation. But is that situation 'humanity vs the galaxy', or 'the galaxy vs the Destroyers'?"

"The more support we can gather amongst the other races, the better. We're handicapped to start with because of the geth, and our own Uploading. We're new, we're powerful, and trust will be a long time coming. Too long, perhaps, to do any good. If we start uplifting the other races though..." said Tuxedo.

"Uploading should not be forced on those who do not desire it." said Robe quietly.

"Of course not! Sorry, should have phrased that better," said a slightly flustered Tuxedo. "I mean, we may not be more advanced than them in every way, but many of our technologies surpass theirs. Many of theirs surpass ours. A mutual uplift, a technology merger, might help win hearts and minds, and make everyone the stronger for the arrival of the Destroyers."

"So you are proposing not merely a political merger, but very nearly a societal one?" asked Casual.

"Technological at least. Look, I've seen the projections. Three decades from now, the Arcturus Shell's output will surpass our consumption. We will begin to have more ships than we can use." said Tuxedo.

"You're suggesting we give our warships to people who may yet be our enemies." said Military flatly.

"Yes." said Tuxedo. "Why would they be our enemies? Because they are arrogant, greedy, or scared. You can cow the arrogant, bargain with the greedy, and placate the scared. You can deal with them in ways other than war. You can't argue with annihilation. The apocalypse will not be swayed by politics. When the Destroyers come, we will need to throw everything we have at them. Right now, humanity isn't strong enough. We might not be for centuries. But a united galaxy, working together, geared for war, could be ready in time." said Tuxedo.

"We don't even know what 'ready' is in this situation. The geth data on 'Nazara' could be summarised as 'it is big, black and ugly'. It could be the smallest ship they have, or the biggest. There could be millions more like it, or none. I see you point, but we need more data. To convince the Council races as much as help us prepare." said Military.

"I thought you said we wouldn't find any before they came?" said Lab-coat.

"I said they've been doing this a while, and we might not. We still have to search though. We also have a head start. Most races wouldn't even know what to look for, or even to look. Besides, 'not conclusive' and 'not useful' are different things." said Military.

"Spectres." said Casual. The others turned to face him. "One of the biggest bullets we're going to have to dodge are Council Spectres. If we join, they will require access to Sol. If we don't, they will attempt access regardless."

"Personally I find the very concept of the Spectres to be faintly repugnant. They literally have no oversight beyond the Council themselves? Theft, murder, terrorism; if it gets the job done, they are not held accountable." said Robe.

"Indeed, but the simple fact that they have access to everywhere would help us greatly." said Casual.

"How do Council agents with immunity from law help us?" asked Lab-coat.

"You're all forgetting the very likely possibly that soon, _we will be a Council race_. They cannot, in any fashion, grant us a full Council seat and refuse us our own Spectres. The legal clout to go anywhere in Council space, to access classified data, to overrule local bureaucracy; not to mention the publicity bonus." said Casual.

"Getting friendly faces out there would help immensely. I'll admit I only skimmed that section of the codex, but the potential is certainly intriguing." said Tuxedo.

The room grew silent again.

Eventually, Casual sighed.

"We have a lot of work to do."


End file.
